In the fractured dream’s still nodes,
A whisper voices, a pale light seams,
Deep in the shadows, from far away,
The spirits arise, preparing to array.

Unheard, unseen unthanked but yet holding on,
A flame born of smoldered air.
It rocks the heart, revives the heart,
And dances, recklessly with death.

Guide you across the tempest, haunt the endless night;
The spirit enhances, it saves the light.
A secret power, a hidden land,
That assembles all that could not be dort.

Rising high, Where hope was gone,
A gold exhaust that sparks a fire.
Free, loathed to starts its course,
The heart of the revival spirit.